living on stilts
Rach writes
At the end of our street we were pleased to stumble across something we had been planning on searching out – a village on stilts over the water.
Small houses, a temple and a shop or two line the boardwalks that are used by pedestrians and motorcyclists alike. Although you’d expect bicycles to come to grief in the cracks between the planks, there were plenty of them about too.
It was fascinating to sneak another peek into some people’s lives, whose experience is so different to our own. An elderly gentleman sat on his doorstep, cigarette dangling from his mouth. I asked if I could take his photo – he went to remove his smoke, but then dropped his hand and left it there. The photo was exactly as I had found him.
Another old lady sat on her “verandah”. Literally. No chair, no stool, no cushion, no porch swing. Just the dusty floorboards. In fact, in a few of the houses I saw people lying on the floor with just a pillow, and in others there were pillows stacked up against the wall. In one, a baby boy lay on the floor wearing only a t-shirt. Grandma was cooing over him. His square muslin nappies were drying in the slight breeze at the side of the house, hanging over the rubbish-filled water.
Along a bit further, a boy leaned over a “gate” in a doorway, looking inside to televised brightness.
Just inside the front door of yet another house was silhouetted an elderly lady in a wheelchair. I wondered if she gets out much. Is there someone to push her chair over the uneven boards? I guess it would be *possible* – wheelchairs aren’t too different to the cart full of steaming food that someone was pushing from house to house, food presumably for sale. (Oh yes, we saw huge trays of cooked rice drying out in the sun too).
Nearby was another young mum with her four month old baby boy, and Grandma sweeping out the front room. I would have liked to have been able to sit down with her and chat.
At the very end of the pier was a sun-browned gnarled wiry man with a chest full of tattoo. He has a boat, which takes drinking water out to the big ships. At least we think that’s what he said! His uncle (or would that be “uncle”?) owns another boat. We could not work out what he does with it, but we do know it’s not fishing. Giving up on that conversation, they turned to the usual “12345678 very very good” one. For some reason – and this pair was no exception – people often like to work out which child is Number One, which is Number Two etc etc all the way to Baby Number Eight. I wonder why. Could be nothing more than co-incidence. Or perhaps there is a reason. Most likely our visit to these parts will be too fleeting to find an answer, but I have lodged away the question in my mind to ask someone should the opportunity arise.
Tags: children, intergenerationalism, parenting, postcard: Malaysia
rayres
When we were in Vanuatu we were always asked – how many? who was first (boy or girl)? How old is the first? How old is everyone else? Apparently it was important to see if you had a boy first, and also to know the spacing of your children (did you lose any) and then how old the youngest was (are you still being blessed with them). The blessing of children 🙂 I would have been lovely to chat with the Mum with the baby! Take care.
I’m loving reading about all your adventures – I think you’re amazing to find the time to record them all in such an interesting and colourful way! (My ISP won’t let me view your photos, but you paint such lovely word pictures that I can imagine it all!) What an incredible opportunity for your family – good on you for grabbing it with both hands!
This is my take on the numbering thing: (anyone, please correct me if wrong!!) Rank,status and respect are impt concepts in the way most Asians traditionally view themselves in relation to their wider community. The first born in many cultures has privileges – see Old Testament! Esp first born son (also responsibilities too) Traditionally Asians like to know where you fit in the “scheme of things” in the family, and therefore would determine what role you played in the wider community. Also knowing how to address the person. eg Chinese have different words for older /younger siblings/uncles/aunties and pple like to know how to appropriately address others, to accord the proper respect etc. As you prob have found out by now, some aunties and uncles are often known by the number they are in the family. Eg Third Auntie etc. The higher up you are the more privileges and status you have, and the more respect you are accorded too. Of course the responsibilities are usually greater too…
Joe prob has a better understanding of it than me… maybe?? 😛
Such an interesting post
In your Stilt village number 1 photo I cant help but notice the rubbish on the ground
such a cool photo of the man wtg
what a contrast between the way these houses are the big newish looking TV
“For some reason – and this pair was no exception – people often like to work out which child is Number One, which is Number Two etc etc all the way to Baby Number Eight. I wonder why.”
Of course I can’t say if May’s suggestion (of the rank/status issue) is wrong or right, but I don’t think this is necessarily an Asian/cultural thing. I grew up in a family of 4 children and even in Australia people often liked to figure us out from oldest to youngest. It was normally pretty easy to guess until we got older into our mid-late teens and sometimes they got #1 and #2 mixed up (uncommon) but more often they got #2 and #4 mixed up. I think it was more a bit of a game than anything else. But maybe there are different reasons in different countries.
Occasionally in NZ people would ask us about who’s who….but in Asia it was happening everywhere, every day. And most important seemed to be whether firstborn was boy or girl.
May is Chinese from Singapore – so I guess she knows what she’s talking about 😉